Subterfuge
by SmallSerpent
Summary: “Peter Matthews did not kiss like a man who’d kept his celibacy vow... Of course, Leon was in no position to judge.” Peter/Leon.


**Disclaimer****: Peter and Leon are Tim LaHaye, and Jerry Jenkins' play-things; I'm just stealing them for a moment. Don't worry, I'll put them back **_**relatively**_** unharmed before anyone even notices they're gone. What you see before you exists purely because I had to think about **_**something**_** during my science class (It certainly wasn't going to be the subject at hand, and fantasizing about my female teacher was getting a little awkward.) and I have not and will not receive money, gifts, or any other thing of value for writing this. **

**Explicit Pairings****: Peter Matthews/Leonardo Fortunato. **

**Mentioned Pairings****: Nicolae Carpathia/Leonardo Fortunato, Catholic Priests/Leonardo Fortunato, Peter Matthews/Teenage boys and Former Bosses/Leonardo Fortunato. **

**Warnings****: Slash, sex between adults, mentions of adults having sex with minors, mentions of character death (in a favorable light), crude language, mentions of BDSM, and generally squicky but not really kinky subterfuge. **

**Author's Note****: Um... Sorry it's taken so long? I have an actual break coming up next week, and if I can sneak away from the ocean of relatives my mother is flying in, I should be able to get another fic out then. Or... I might actually decide to update that Harry Potter fic that I've been neglecting for seven months... Or I might do both! We'll see. Anyway, here is this. The pairing came out of nowhere, but please enjoy it anyway. **

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Peter Matthews did not kiss like a man who'd kept his celibacy vow.

Of course, Leon was in no position to judge. He hadn't been able to handle all of the rules in Catholic _school_. He'd never have been able to handle the actual priesthood. The heart... No. The heart couldn't possibly care less when it came to things like this... The flesh wants what it wants. Leon had wanted beauty and ritual, and the Church had only been able to satisfy him for so long before he'd grown impatient. Matthews had wanted both authority and safety, and while the Church had satisfied both needs for many years, it was only a matter of time before his desire for the former swallowed his desire for the latter.

That was why Leon was there, officially. Leon should have killed The One Who Would Be King months ago, but instead he was struggling to hold still while the former priest pressed rough kisses to his neck and unsubtly fondled him. It was not that Leon didn't intend to kill Peter **eventually**; It was just that, in spite of his boss' evident impatience, Leon didn't intend to kill Peter **now**. Leon had His Excellency's permission to let Peter survive this meeting, and in the past, Leon had been able to buy them time as long as Peter continued to tactlessly incriminate himself at the end of their every encounter.

Or, rather, Leon had been able to buy _himself_ time. He hadn't spared Peter's life for Peter. Even as Peter pressed Leon against the wall and forced their lips together, catching the Supreme Commander off-guard and obviously reveling in his dominance as the second most powerful man in the world chose the kiss over breathing, Leon was very much aware that Peter's extended life was merely an unfortunate but necessary sacrifice so that Leon could get what he wanted.

In the end, His Excellency was going to find out, Leon was going to be appropriately punished, and Peter, one way or another, was going to die. Acceptance would not stop Leon from shedding tears over the matter: genuine apathy would. Leonardo Fortunato did not love Peter Matthews. As Peter helped Leon out of his jacket, confiscated it before Leon could fold it, tossed it behind him carelessly, and quickly went for the designer belt as Leon himself started on his shirt buttons, Leonardo Fortunato honestly didn't even _like_ Peter Matthews. Everything that happened in this small room that held little more than an ornate but forgotten baptismal pool was nothing more than a disgraceful attempt on both of their parts to live out their most twisted fantasies.

Peter Matthews did not kiss like a man who'd _broken_ his celibacy vow _with an adult_.

And that was exactly why Leon kept coming back to him. Leon _enjoyed_ that the once-Pope held him slightly too tightly, almost as though willing him to be someone smaller. Leon enjoyed the clumsy way that Peter tried to guide him through everything, as though Leon hadn't done this a million times before with a thousand different men, and Leon enjoyed the fear Peter feigned of breaking a favorite toy, as though Leon hadn't cheerily submitted to things infinitely worse than anything Peter could imagine. Leon enjoyed pretending that Peter was a very specific someone else. Leon enjoyed remembering when he was younger...

No, Peter was not a pedophile. That wouldn't have been any good to Leon. It would not have been enough to extend Peter's life, even if it had been. Priests who liked young boys were never difficult to come by. Peter's sort were rarer, and that made Peter valuable. While the last person that Peter had seen naked had, unquestionably, been very much a _boy_, not a man, he had not been a child, and that made all of the difference in the world.

The boys were fourteen, usually. Fifteen was alright, too, but sixteen was pushing it. It was the narrow gap in which they looked just _young_ enough that the priest who had his way with them could convince himself that he wasn't really gay, while at the same time they looked just _old_ enough that the same priest could also assure himself that he wasn't a pedophile. They were just young enough to be innocent and trainable, but just old enough that the risk of traumatizing them was relatively low. They were just old enough to consent—in the priest's eyes, if not in the law's—but just young enough that they didn't entirely understand that it wasn't their fault that the wonderful young priest whom everyone loved was a closet faggot who was going to Hell.

Leon was not there because he liked to be dominated. He _did_ like it, of course, in the same way that he liked breathing, but that wasn't the point. Leon was there because of all of those long nights back in school when he hadn't been able to sleep because the condemning voices in head were too loud. Leon was there because it soothed him, albeit several decades too late, to know that men like Peter enjoyed dominating him every bit as much as he enjoyed being dominated. Leon was there because Peter's condescending grin was certainly not that of a martyr.

Within minutes, all of Leon's clothes had been removed. Peter tossed every individual article into the drained and dirty baptismal pool behind him as though it was a cheap rag, and Leon didn't hold back the grimaces. He meant every last one of them, particularly since he knew that soon enough he was going to have to put those clothes back on, and, anyway, Peter loved to know just how badly he was hurting Leon. Every gasp, cringe, and moan was a reminder the Peter was in control. Though Leon was aware that he was feeding Peter's power-lust, he wanted his own gratification far too much to deny Peter his.

The Supreme Commander and Peter the Second had entirely different motives for doing this with each other, and they compromised well. In exchange for his immediate submission to Peter's every sexual whim, Leon got the Church, the (ex-)Priest, the vestments, the incense... Peter got a small taste of the power that he would **never** _really_ yield over the Supreme Commander, and Leon got closure in what he felt was the healthiest way possible.

The first time Leon had touched Peter's gorgeous red vestments, he'd faced a million demons. He had gotten better since then, though the soft material beneath his fingers still made his heart speed up. It was easier now to remind himself that whatever had happened and whatever would happen and whatever _was_ happening while he helped a clergyman out of his vestments no longer mattered, because Catholicism and all that it held holy had fallen, and there were no more sins.

That was not to say that Leon left these encounters completely guilt-free.

Certainly, the dark smirk that met Peter's lips when Leon carefully folded the Cardinal's vestments before laying them on the cleanest surface available elated Leon's inner miserable teenager. It was the smirk of a man who was here because he loved yielding power over men far more than he loved men themselves. It was a smirk that was easily reconciled with the old mantra that if it hadn't been Leon, it would have been someone else. It was a guilty smirk that erased years of thinking that, were it not for Leon, his theology teacher would still be a celibate and pious Priest.

And yet, when Peter ordered Leon to his knees, Leon had to look away. No matter how much Leon would have liked to view Peter as nothing more than a Catholic clergyman who was totally representative of _all_ Catholic clergymen and not in any way his own person, Leon couldn't stop the occasional but rather unpleasant awareness that this was _Peter_ he was dealing with, and Peter had no right to want any of the things he did from Leon. More importantly, though, Leon could never forget that _he_ had no right to give Peter those things.

The punishment for this was going to be brutal, and Leon was looking forward to that. Thus far he'd been able to pacify his conscience with the light blows and verbal reprimands His Excellency treated him to for not killing Peter, but the ultimate wrath that Leon was going to have to face for _this_ was going to be... cleansing... and then Peter was going to die, and hopefully when he did this whole ordeal would finally be over. If not... Leon would find someone else.

Of course, there was always a possibility that _Leon_ was going to die, too. He had not forgotten about that, though he wasn't terribly worried about it. His Excellency knew Leon well enough to take this for what it was and pass judgment accordingly. While it was likely that a regional potentate or nearly anyone else would die for this same offense, Leon and Ms. Ivins were... different, and everyone knew that. His Excellency did not doubt Leon's loyalty, and while he would certainly object to Leon's choice in partners, he would not object to this act itself. Leon had always stayed out of Nicolae Carpathia's sexual affairs when they didn't directly involve him, and Nicolae had always gladly returned the favor.

As Leon took Peter into his mouth, the religious leader breathed a comment wondering what Leon's 'beloved boss' would do if he could see them now, and Leon would have bitten him were it not for the knowledge that Peter was going to die. Unwilling to listen to more of Peter's taunting, Leon threw his years of experience with this into keeping Matthews incoherent. The whispered reminders from Matthews that Leon was submitting himself to someone other than Nicolae Carpathia, and that that should say something about Leon's relationship with the king of the world, were no small annoyance, and Leon considered it worth breaking character to be rid of them.

In Peter's defense, Leon had known what he was getting himself into. The first time Peter had noticed Leon's eyes on him, Peter had flashed a triumphant smile that rivaled the one he'd worn to his Papal Coronation, leaned in until they were nearly hugging—Leon had been curious and lusty and nervous and entirely too irrational to back away—and whispered a reminder that he wasn't Leon's beloved _master_. Leon should have known to stop there. Peter wasn't the sort of man to just take what he was given. As long as Leon submitted to Peter sexually, it was in Peter's nature to assume that Leon would be willing to do the same _politically_, no matter how fervently the Supreme Commander denied it.

Leon could forgive himself for realizing, in _that_ moment, of all moments, that he really didn't _care_ that it was his boss'—and, by extension, _his_—most conniving rival that he desperately wanted to flip him over the alter and fuck him like the slut that he had been as a teenager. He would _never_ forgive himself for sharing that realization with Peter.

It never seemed like very much time had passed between the moment Peter tugged off Leon's tie and the moment that Leon found himself swallowing the other man's semen. Peter was used to the attentions of formerly virginal teenagers, and Leon had been trained by hard-to-please businessmen who had never been afraid to hurt him when he got it wrong. The combination was not built to last long.

Leon was already half-way to his feet when he felt Peter's hands on his shoulders. He was hastily yanked to the rest of the way up and roughly shoved into the wall. Peter ran a hand up Leon's thigh and flashed Satan's smirk. Leon had only a second to silently curse himself before Peter's hand moved to more personal areas.

In some ways, it was awkward to be with a man who _bothered_. Granted, it dovetailed well with Leon's memories of manipulative authority figures who found everything so much _easier_ if their victims were even the tiniest bit enamored with them, but after years of relationships where that kind of equality was not to be _dreamt_ of, it unsettled Leon slightly. It was a sign of weakness that, ten years ago, Leon would have admonished Nicolae for.

And because Peter didn't understand that, his smirk remained when he finished Leon off and they both moved toward their clothing.

And then it began. "Does _Nicolae_ ever let you—"

"Does it matter?" Leon snapped.

Peter laughed. "That's a 'no,' then."

Not always. It just really wasn't any of Peter's business. Leon tried to distract himself with pretending that he wasn't picking his clothing up off dirty a Cathedral floor for long enough to get them back on, but Peter persisted.

"...And obviously it _does_ matter. You wouldn't keep coming back to me if it didn't."

Leon nearly bit through his own tongue. He drew in a sharp breath and froze, halfway through pulling his shirt on.

Peter raised an eyebrow.

His Excellency had ordered Leon to hesitate. To let Peter think... but _that_ was unthinkable to Leon. Leon couldn't think of this the way Peter would see it. His Excellency saw it as... following orders. It was _because_ Leon loved Nicolae Carpathia that he lowered his eyes submissively and sighed. "That..." A million counter-arguments came to mind, but he forced himself to reject all of them. "It isn't like that." Vague. Not a confession, but a firm enough denial to really _count_. Peter wasn't stupid. If Leon surrendered, Peter would be suspicious. The trick was to pretend to fight and _lose_.

When Leon looked back up, Peter had finished dressing. That was good. Leon anxiously awaited the day when he would wash the blood of Peter the Traitor off his hands, but it was easy to feign deference to Peter the Cardinal.

Leon pulled his shirt over his other shoulder. The shirt had been white when he'd put it on this morning, but now he can't seem to brush away the dust. He saw every speck, and he was certain that His Excellency would have seen every incriminating dirt-fleck as well. Leon couldn't wait to get back to his hotel room and toss the whole thing into the trash. He _always_ left Rome with a new outfit.

When Peter joined him in the pool and began to button the shirt for Leon, Leon didn't protest. The less he had to touch the thing, the better.

It was Peter's fault, anyway. Leon was certain that Peter _knew_ he couldn't stand to put on clothes that weren't freshly cleaned and ironed. Tossing Leon's clothing into the dirt was just another subtle way that Peter liked to assert his dominance. The way that Peter didn't even _shake_ Leon's tie before he flung it around Leon's neck as though he meant to strangle him with it proved that.

"So, what _is_ it like?" Peter wondered as he carefully folded the material.

Leon tried to keep his eyes on Peter's face as The Man Who Would Be King slowly slid the knot into place at his throat. "...What?"

Peter repeated the question in Italian, and Leon barely stopped himself from slapping him. Peter laughed darkly, and turned to retrieve Leon's jacket. "What _is_ it like with His Excellency?" There was a small pause before he turned back around and their eyes met.

This situation was not unusual. Every moment they spent together in private was an opportunity to tempt Leon, and Peter always took it. The topic changed only slightly from visit to visit. Last time, it had been military policy. The time before that, it had been Leon's accommodations. Today, it seemed to be sex.

"I don't believe for a moment that he's never touched you, so why _do_ you always come back?" Peter teased.

Leon wasn't surprised. It was bound to go that way eventually.

Leon snatched his jacket out of Peter's hand. "I don't know." He had left the baptismal area and was half-way across the sanctuary by the time he got the damn thing buttoned.

He couldn't glance back, but he imagined Peter's sneer the entire way to his car.

As his driver headed back to the hotel, Leon relaxed and pulled out his phone. He was supposed to meet Peter for dinner later, to discuss official Enigma Babylon business. He didn't want to go. It was childish, but he'd gotten what _he_ wanted, and he'd given both His Excellency and Peter what _they_ wanted, and he didn't see any reason why he couldn't shower, change his clothes, and be on the plane home within the hour. Peter would do whatever he wanted with his damn Church anyway, and all involved _knew_ that.

And it could work in their favor for Peter to get the impression that Leon was running back to New Babylon because he was spooked. Peter was arrogant, and would undoubtedly believe that Leon was returning in a desperate attempt to _force_ himself to remain loyal to Nicolae Carpathia by removing the other option.

... and if Leon could convince His Excellency of that, he might not ask why Leon _really_ didn't want to go.

Leon sighed and called his boss.


End file.
